The Prodigal Son!
by No1butjoe
Summary: It’s been five years since Frank Hardy disappeared off the face of the earth, but, come Christmas, when someone threatens Joe Hardys’ life, a plainclothes detective is assigned to protect him. ONE-SHOT! COMPLETE! Please, R&R! P.S. The illness is made-up.


The Prodigal Son!

By No1butjoe

**Summary – It's been five years since Frank Hardy disappeared off the face of the earth, but, come Christmas, when someone threatens Joe Hardys' life, a plainclothes detective is assigned to protect him. Why does Sean remind Joe so much of someone from his past? And why is Joe keeping secrets from his family?**

"How old are you, Mr. Hardy?"

Joe Hardy, 22, sighed deeply as he answered the question. Dr. Boones put a hand on the back of his own neck as a look of concern covered his features.

"Mr. Hardy, I hate to say this, but you've contracted a rare disease known as typhious."

Joe swallowed hard as his throat constricted.

"It requires a series of tests that I suggest you don't allow your family to know about, but if my assumptions are correct, I doubt you'll be here come Christmas."

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Fenton Hardy ran a hand over his face in exasperation. Too much work and not enough time before the holidays to do it. Just then, the phone rang and Fenton hurriedly answered it. Joe was supposed to be home hours ago. It amazed the detective how he still worried about his son even though he was old enough to take care of himself.

"Hello?"

"Is this Mr. Fenton Hardy?" an unfamiliar voice asked, hesitantly, on the other end.

"Yes, may I ask who's calling?" Fenton asked, frowning.

"Sean. Sean Paterton, sir," came the reply. "I'm a private investigator for the Bayport Police. I just started a few days ago."

"Yes, Mr. Paterton, what can I do for you?"

"Mr. Hardy, I'm required to inform you that your son, Joseph I believe his name is, is in terrible danger," Paterton announced. "I have come across an unusual note tucked in a coat Joseph brought in not too long ago. Well, the note was threatening the life of your son. Something about 'vengeance will be carried out in time'."

Fenton paled considerably.

"Sir?" Paterton asked, concerned. "Is something wrong? Does that mean anything to you?"

The older detective's voice grew quiet, but his caller was able to pick up on the words he said.

"Five years ago, my eldest son, Frank, was kidnapped from our house here in Bayport. I spent three months trying to find him, but every lead always turned up empty. A year before his disappearance, I was involved in a case that literally pushed me over the edge and beyond. I ignored my family and worked all the time on bringing Justin Kent to justice. Well, things didn't turn out as well as I had planned. I ended up having to kill Kent's son. Ever since then, Kent's been in prison, charged with attempted murder, assault, and abuse. He vowed to seek revenge against me by going after my family. It looks like he's finally going to succeed."

There was silence for a while on the other end of the phone, then, "Mr. Hardy, I would consider it a great honor to be a bodyguard for your son, if need be."

"How old are you, Mr. Paterton?" Fenton asked, curiously.

"Twenty-three, sir, and please call me Sean."

"Only if you call me Fenton."

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Joe looked at the caller ID on his phone as it began playing _I'll be Home For Christmas._ It was a number unfamiliar to the youth.

"Hello?"

"Joe Hardy?" a voice asked, expectantly.

"Yes? Who is this?" Joe asked, paling. _Why does he sound so familiar?_

"Sean Paterton," came the reply. "Mr. Hardy, I was hired by your father to protect you against Justin Kent who plans on taking your life. If you could give me your location, I'll be there in a matter of minutes."

Joe sighed, gave the man his location, and hung up. Ten minutes later, a car came barreling down the street. As it stopped and it's soul occupant got out, Joe paled.

_He looks exactly like Frank!_ he thought. That's _why his voice sounded so familiar!_

"Joe Hardy?" Paterton asked, extending his hand.

"Yeah, that's me," Joe replied, shaking the hand firmly. "Glad you could make it."

Sean smiled and followed Joe into the restaurant the younger man had been planning on eating at before the call. Joe ordered his usual, while Sean just ordered a cup of coffee.

"So, Sean, tell me a little about yourself," Joe prodded, putting the food in his mouth.

"I've been with the force for about two years now," Sean replied, sipping his coffee. "My-My parents died in a car accident when I was little and I roamed the streets until I turned nineteen. A friend of my father took me in, showed me the ropes, and got me a job in the department. I've been on my own ever since."

"Ever had a partner?" Joe asked, curiously.

Sean looked directly into the younger man's eyes, then, suddenly, lowered them.

"Five years ago, I was working with a man about your age. We were staking out a drug dealer when things went from bad to worse. Somehow, they found out that we were there and ambushed us. Joe was taken and tortured beyond belief. By the time they rescued me, there was nothing left of him but ashes. They even forced me to watch the whole thing!"

"Your partner's name was Joe?"

Sean nodded, struggling to hold back tears.

"I never did go to see his family. Too hard on me. Too many memories."

"You never got a new partner?" Joe asked, sympathetically.

"No, I didn't want anyone to die because of my mistakes again," Sean replied, suddenly angry with himself. "You'd think I'd be over it by now, but back in the far corner of my brain, it's there, waiting to come out."

Joe nodded.

"I know how you feel," he admitted. "I lost my brother five years ago. He was kidnapped, but my family and I never knew what happened to him. No ransom was ever sent, no videos, notes, nothing. Then, about three months after his disappearance, Dad just involved himself in cases. He never seemed to have time for me anymore. It's amazing that he remembers that I'm still alive."

Sean stopped drinking his coffee and stared into Joe's eyes.

"Someone threatening your life is nothing to joke about," he stated. "I should know. My partner would always get into all kinds of trouble that I'd naturally have to get him out of."

Joe paled. Was it possible that this man was his long lost brother, just faking that story?

"How old are you, Sean?" he asked, hurriedly.

"Twenty-three. Why?"

Joe's face turned an incredibly plain shade of white. Was it possible? Was this Frank? Why didn't Frank tell him? Joe's face fell. But Frank was dead, wasn't he?

"Joe, you okay?" Sean asked, honestly worried. "You dazed out on me for a second there."

"Sean, have you ever seen me or my brother before?" Joe asked, closing his eyes tightly. He had to know.

"No, can't say I have, but I've heard thousands of stories about you two and your father."

"Sean, please, when I ask this question, answer me honestly," Joe pleaded. "No more secrets, okay?"

His friend frowned, but nodded his understanding.

"Are you really Frank in disguise?" Joe asked, refusing to meet the older man's gaze. "Have you been my brother all along?"

Sean didn't answer. Joe looked up, surprised to see tears in his eyes.

"Sean?" he asked, expectantly. "Please, I have to know."

The investigator rose to his feet, put a few bills on the table to pay for his coffee, and left. Joe hurriedly paid for his meal and rushed after him.

"Sean!" he shouted, excitedly. "Sean, come on! We have to talk!"

At that exact moment, Joe's eyesight started acting funny. The people and buildings started to lean to the right and left. A pain was beginning in Joe's chest and getting worse by the second. Suddenly, the world went dark as he crashed to the sidewalk, unconscious.

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Sean didn't know what made him turn around. Joe had stopped shouting after him and he was just curious, he figured. What he saw churned his blood. Joe was lying on the sidewalk, apparently ill. Hurriedly, the detective rushed to his friend's side and immediately checked for a pulse. It was there, but just barely. Hailing a taxi, he had the driver help him get Joe into the car, then ordered him to drive to the hospital.

Doctor Boones was immediately called, having knowledge of what was causing Joe the pain he was experiencing. Sean refused to leave the hospital. He had already called Fenton to let him know what had happened. As Dr. Boones entered the waiting room, Sean jumped to his feet.

"Doctor, how is he?" he asked, more worried than he was letting on.

"I can't lie to you, son," came the dejected reply. "Joe has had tests done on his heart to slow the process of something pressing against it. Those tests failed and it's now pushing harder than ever before. I don't know how to say this, but he won't live past this week."

Sean paled. Sunday was Christmas!

"Can I see him?"

"Room 275."

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Sean Paterton glanced up and down the hallways, making sure no one would interrupt his visit with Joe. The younger man was lying on the bed. IVs were hooked into his arm, a respirator plugged in to help him breathe.

"Joe, can you hear me?" Sean whispered.

The normal voice of the detective was gone. Instead, a deep, baritone voice spoke, filled with emotion. Sean removed something from his pocket and placed it on Joe's bed.

"I've missed a lot in life, haven't I?" he asked, wiping a tear out of his eye. "Birthdays, Christmases, Thanksgivings. You survived through 'em all, huh?"

He buried his face in the covers as his fingers pulled out a picture from his wallet. Two teenaged boys stood in the picture. One had blond hair, the other dark. Joe was the blond, but the dark haired boy had been missing for five long years. The door swung wide open to reveal a pale Fenton Hardy. The older investigator took one look at Joe and was immediately at the bedside. He didn't notice when a sobbing Frank Hardy left the room.

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_A warm beach. A sunset on the horizon melted his heart as he felt the gentle wind caress him. A voice speaking. But suddenly something triggered in the back of his mind. Like he had something important to do, but he couldn't find out what it was. Then, one word came to him. Frank._

He needs you, Joe.

_I know, but he deserted me. How can I face him? What if he leaves again? How will I live?_

One day at a time. Love him, Joe. It's what he needs right now.

_He looked out across the ocean and sighed. The voice was right. He did love Frank and if he didn't do something, he'd lose his brother forever._

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"Frank."

The voice was weak and hoarse, but Fenton heard it just the same. He smiled in relief as his son slowly opened his eyes.

"Joe, can you hear me, son?"

Blue eyes locked onto his and he had to restrain himself from shouting for joy.

"Dad?"

Fenton nodded, eagerly.

"Dad, where's Sean?"

Fenton frowned. Sean? What did he have to do with anything?

"He left some time ago. Why?"

Joe gripped his father's hand, anxiously.

"Please, bring him back. I-" he cut off as a sharp pain stabbed him in his chest.

He cried out as the world suddenly went black once more.

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"One ticket please."

While waiting for his ticket, Sean Paterton/Frank Hardy watched as families were reunited in the airport. Sisters ran to embrace brothers, fathers embraced mothers, and husbands and wives embraced each other warmly.

"_Not me,_" he thought, sighing. "_I'll never see my family again._"

"Sean!" a voice shouted, anxiously. "Sean, stop!"

The young detective turned as Fenton Hardy caught up with him, breathing heavily. Fearing the worst, Sean patiently waited.

"Joe sent me after you," Fenton explained. "He needs to talk to you."

A small tear started in the corner of Sean's eye.

"He's awake?" he asked, hopefully.

Fenton nodded.

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_The air felt warm, but yet cool, to the touch as Joe spread his arms out to catch the breeze that was blowing directly in his face._

"Joe?"

_The voice sounded familiar, yet he couldn't place it. Who would be calling for him? _

"Joe, it's-it's Sean."

_Frank, Joe corrected in his head. You lied to me. You pretended you were someone you weren't. How can I trust you again?_

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Sean worriedly waited outside of Joe's room. His friend hadn't even opened his eyes when he went in there. Fenton was trying now. He just hoped it worked. Sean sighed. He had so much to tell Joe, so many things he wanted to do with him.

"Sean, Joe will see you now," Fenton announced, opening the door and holding it for Sean to enter.

Taking a deep breath, Sean rose and entered the semi-dark room. Joe was propped up by pillows and his eyes were wide open, following every move Sean made.

"Frank?" he whispered, eyes searching his.

Frank Hardy stared back and nodded, tears threatening to slip out of his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Joe," he apologized. "I thought I was doing what was best."

Joe was becoming angry.

"By leaving, making us believe that you've been dead for the past five years and we had no body to bury? Frank, I've always thought it was my fault you were kidnapped. I felt that I had caused the death of my best friend and partner. I gave up on becoming a detective, cause I knew that my big brother wouldn't be there to back me up. Is that what you call 'doing what was best'?"

Frank looked at the floor. Joe was right. It was his own selfish desires that caused him to hurt his loved ones and now he was paying for it. Joe's voice became softer as he spoke once again.

"But you came back."

All the love Joe had for his brother were in those words. Frank knew he had been forgiven, but there was still a matter of his parents. Fenton Hardy walked back in moments later.

"Dad," Joe began. "Sean needs to tell you something."

The young man took a deep breath and said, "It's been a long time, Dad."

Fenton paled and suddenly gathered Frank into a strong embrace.

"My boy," was all the detective could say. "My boy. My boy. My-My son."

Frank's own tears began filling with tears at those two words and he slowly brought his arms up to embrace his father.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered, softly. "I'm so sorry."

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**Two hours and four tests later . . . **

Frank and Fenton Hardy rose as the doctor entered the waiting room. Both of their faces were pale and sunken from lack of sleep. Joe had just gone into surgery. Hemmer aging to the brain had resulted in several convulsions. Frank took one look at the doctor's face and his heart sank.

"_Please, tell me Joe's okay,_" he pleaded in his head. "_Joe's got to be okay! There's so many holidays I have to make up for and if Joe . . ._"

His thoughts continued to wander as the doctor started talking.

"Mr. Hardy, Frank, Joe's ready to see you now," Doctor Bates announced, smiling.

At first, Frank thought he was dreaming, but, once he walked into his younger brother's room, he knew it was real. Joe wasn't quite awake yet, since he kept mumbling incoherently, but Frank was just glad that Joe was still alive.

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**Christmas Day, 3:34 a.m. **

It was impossible to sleep. Tossing and turning over and over again in sweat drenched sheets wasn't helping either. Joe sighed deeply and slowly tumbled out of bed, catching himself before he fell to the floor from dizziness. Vaguely, he tried to recall where he was, but the memories of the past few days hadn't yet returned to him. He didn't care. It was less to think about anyway. After glancing around the room for a good twenty minutes, Joe discovered that he was in a hospital room. The smell was all too familiar from when he and Frank had solved mysteries. Exhausted, Joe collapsed into the chair stationed by his bed.

Rubbing his forehead, the young man once again tried to remember what exactly had happened.

_**Frank.**_

Joe jerked his head up. Frank was back, but where was he? Looking over at the clock, he groaned loudly, just as the door to the room opened and a figure walked in.

Joe's throat constricted and he suddenly found it hard to breathe. It wasn't a dream. Frank was really back.

"Joe, what the heck are you doing out of bed?" Frank asked, anxiously.

Just before Frank got to the chair the younger Hardy was sitting in, the full realization of the words that he had just spoken hit him full force. Frank felt his knees go weak.

"Joe," he whispered, allowing the name to trail off on his lips.

Joe was confused. What was wrong with Frank? Carefully, he helped him to his feet and, together, they sat on the bed.

"Frank, what's wrong?" Joe asked, worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Before Frank answered, he wrapped his arms around his younger brother tightly, so as to convince himself that this was real.

"You-You almost died on me, Joe," Frank whispered, tears spilling down his cheeks. "They said you had a rare disease, but, at the last possible second, the doctors performed surgery and you've been asleep ever since."

"What's today?" Joe asked, paling as he gently pulled away from the older Hardy.

"Christmas, which reminds me that I got you something," Frank said, reaching into his coat pocket to retrieve something. "I didn't know if you'd be awake to open it, but now that you are, well . . . I just hope you like it."

Joe frowned, but opened the small box his brother had handed to him. Tears collected in his eyes as he examined the object. Frank took it from his hands and put it around his brother's neck. The sunlight from the window glittered off of the words that were chiseled into the oval-shaped locket.

To Joe Hardy

Merry Christmas

Remember I'll always be there

For you.

Love, Frank

Once again, the two brothers were hugging each other. When the nurses came in later, they found both brothers asleep on the bed, Frank's arm supporting Joe, protectively.

**A/N: I wrote this when I was like 13 or 14. I know it's not very good, but I like it. So, R&R if you wish.**


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